Malus
by Flytch
Summary: Malus is stuck in his job as freighter pilot until he's saved enough for his own ship. He knows he is destined for something else and it is only a matter of time. He doesn't know much about this job, just make a delivery, how hard can it be?.Please Review
1. Malus

The Star Wars universe is not my property although I haven't directly referenced it in this chapter this fanfiction is indeed set in the Star Wars universe. The character Malus is mine although...you know what? I really can't write these things. So just assume I'm abiding by the copyright rules :D

Malus

The freighter descended smoothly into one of the many fissures that dotted the planets surface. The gloomy purple aura of the planet was unsettling and Malus was taking little comfort from the knowledge that it was merely a result of the sunlight passing through the chemical rich atmosphere. The whining of the landing thrusters reached a crescendo and there was a barely perceptible thump as the landing gear touched down.

He powered down and stretched, joints popping as he did so. He swept his jaw length black hair out of his face and checked his reflection in the window, sparkling green eyes stared out of a handsome face, and he laughed softly at himself wondering why he was doing this when the aliens who resided here were barely even humanoid.

A group of natives intercepted him as he left the ship. They were tall, pale of skin which wasn't surprising given the lack of sunlight here; large bulbous eyes resided in shallow faces, with barely discernible noses and thin slits for mouths, they were maybe a foot shorter than him at 5ft or so and their arms reached almost to the ground. Malus couldn't help notice the snub nosed blasters at their hips that were just possibly accidentally poking out from their long purple robes. He felt almost shabby in his black top and trousers and his scuffed boots although he felt his cloak gave him a suitably mysterious visage.

'Come, the Elders wish to see you', said one in passable basic, motioning towards the doorway leading into the cave network that dotted the area.

'Sure, sounds like fun', he said with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. They led him through what seemed like miles of identical corridors all hollowed from the dark rock itself and occasionally furnished with some strange minimalist abstract artwork. Malus suppressed a shiver, this place was dismal, and he couldn't wait to get off this miserable world.

Before long they emerged in a high vaulted cavern, fires flickered in braziers dotted sporadically around the room throwing haphazard shadows across the walls and various aliens watched him from low slung chairs. Strange winged creatures watched him with malevolent sentience as they hung from the metal perches that had probably been fitted for that very reason. He was lead to the furthest end of the cavern; what he assumed to be the leader of this tribe loomed over him from its throne and looked at him appraisingly. Incense burned all around him, filling the air with coils of red smoke.

'You are the trader?' it asked.

'My Master requested that I deliver a shipment of durasteel to this settlement' Malus responded. If they were going to play the high and mighty game then he was going to step up to the challenge and damn well win.

'Ah yes, the durasteel', it said, waving a hand languidly at Malus. 'In order for us to start mining the nearby areas we will need material to create the tools'.

'What nearby areas?' asked Malus, 'There isn't an uninhabited area for hundreds of miles from here'. A nasty suspicion formed in his mind and he strongly wished that his boss had trusted him with a blaster.

'Alas, not for much longer', it said as a sneer distorted the previously serene features of its face. 'In fact I have a dreadful suspicion that some misfortune will befall the other tribes of this area quite soon'. 'Grab him!' it said rising from its throne and brandishing a long ornate spear. The aliens to either side of Malus lunged at him but he ducked, turned and ran. The corridors flashing past as he desperately tried to remember the route from which he had come.

Far behind him he heard unintelligible shouts from his pursuers and the pounding of feet. He cursed and took a left, wrenched the door open before slamming it shut behind him and slid to the floor, panting. He looked up to take stock and his eyes took on the mad gleam of a teenage boy in a room full of weapons. Blasters and melee weapons were stacked up against the wall, in crates and on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and grinned. Let's see who is chasing who.

The aliens ran out onto the landing pad but there was no sign of him, they hissed angrily and turned to make a more detailed search of the area when a fusillade of laser fire perforated the ground. The group scattered and ran for it as brilliant blue bolts of energy hissed through the air around them.

Malus swung out of the second level window and dropped to the ground, cloak flapping around him as the currents of air swirled around him. He powered up the ship and ascended rapidly, bursting through the purple haze that surrounded the planet and entering clear and pristine space. When he got back to the warehouse he and his manager were going to have words.


	2. New Days

New Days

The sun was setting as the freighter slipped down through Coruscants atmosphere. Beams of saffron light lanced through the sky and a smile passed over Malus' features as he basked in the warm light. All too soon he descended into the lower tiers of the city, enveloped in the thick smog that was so common in this area of the planet and the sunlight was smothered.

Neon lights flickered and illuminated the streets, crowds milled around the various clubs and bars, men postured and women flirted. Up ahead a cavernous warehouse loomed, graffiti scrawled across the exterior, the entrance to the loading bay gaped like the maw of some colossal beast. Malus pulled the ship to bear and gently brought it to rest on the landing pad.

'Failed have you?' were his manager Joen's first words as Malus came through the door into the musty office. He sat behind his desk, jowly face wobbling, the floor seeming to bend under his bulk. Bright blue eyes glittered under a heavy brow and the last strands of his hair were greasily layered over the top of his balding head. The dim light provided by a desk lamp harshly illuminated his features.

Malus took a deep breath before responding, 'You didn't tell me that I was going to be taking a shipment that was going to be used to wage war on a peaceful people', 'Or that they were going to try and kill me and take the material anyway, they were planning on using it to slaughter the neighbouring clans. We have to warn someone who can step in'. If he had expected Joen's sympathy and understanding then he was mistaken.

'You should have been more careful, I don't care what happens with my materials so long as I get paid for it' he responded, shifting in his chair as it squeaked in protest. 'I can't employ people who are going to lose me money, your employment here is terminated'. and with that final blow to Malus' pride he turned away.

'Screw you then, coward' Malus retorted. He stormed down the stairs that lead to the office, his cloak flapping around him, his hands clenched into fists. A group of loaders who were loitering at the stairs on a break turned to make the inevitable sarcastic remark but their voices died in their throats, Malus was nigh on incandescent with anger, the audacity of the man. All he cared about was profits. There were many lives at stakes and all he cared about was profits, He grabbed a rucksack full of his possessions from his locker and strode out. The main hangar was seething with activity, freighters of all shapes and sizes cluttering the area. Malus turned to leave via the side door when a gleam caught his eye. Joen's prized possession was neatly placed in the far end of the hangar. An N-1 starfighter, obtained in the aftermath of the Battle of Naboo when an enterprising young merchant salvaged a crashed vessel and sold it to Joen who then repaired it with components bought on the black market. The story was well known among employees of his although he had never flown it on account of being unable to fit in the cockpit. It lay serenely in the corner, a vision in yellow and chrome.

Malus looked around furtively but everyone was involved in their tasks and no-one looked his way. He grinned and walked swiftly over to it, climbed into the cockpit and pulled the hood over. A flick of the ignition and the vehicle floated off the floor gently. A loader ran towards him waving his arms wildly. Malus grinned and took off, rising vertically towards the access hatches. Various blasters were now being pointed at him but no-one fired, perhaps deterred by the twin laser cannons nestled in the ships bow. He gunned the thrusters and accelerated away, the last he saw of the hangar was Joen, his face covered in a sheen of sweat and his face distorted with anger as he raised a defiant fist.

Malus laughed in triumph as he burst out of the city, through the lower cloud layers and into the pristine air of the upper atmosphere, the very last of the falling sunlight glinted on the silver front of the ship. Now, he needed to find someway to stop the atrocity that was about to take place on that backwater hellhole.


End file.
